


The Diner Job

by KaniacQueen



Series: Leverage International [4]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Family, Insecurity, Romance, con - Freeform, secret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaniacQueen/pseuds/KaniacQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team finally goes International with a small job in a diner in Italy where Eliot and Savannah must pose as the newlywed owners. The pressure to move forward in their relationship becomes uncomfortably high for one of the pair. </p><p>A/N: In the past, I've released at least a chapter a week. Life has gotten in the way and while normally, I have almost the full piece finished by the scheduled release, this run I have barely a quarter done, so I'm cutting it down to a couple chapters a month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Carat Emeralds

“No shower this time?” Eliot asked half-heartedly as he and Savannah stumbled from the gym to their bedroom, groping and kissing their way along the hall. She shushed him as they pushed through the bedroom door and nearly slammed it behind them. They hit the bed, and shirts were tossed aside. Eliot shuddered as he savored the feeling of her flesh against his. The Underwear On Rule was still in effect, of course, but Eliot was really starting to enjoy the Delayed Gratification Effect that came from it, as well as the level of intimacy he achieved with Savannah, especially for how long it took her to open up to him. 

It may not have seemed that long to some, but Eliot was used to charming people into telling him things; violence wasn’t always his key. It certainly wasn’t the key with Savannah. There was still mystery though, but it made the intimacy more delicious, both the physical and the otherwise. However, it also fed that little fear worm, the one that told him he would wake up alone like so many nights before. It helped that he knew she had that fear on the occasional nights that she would wake with a start and grab him like one of them was falling, he was never sure who.

There was a knock at the door. Eliot and Savannah stopped, looking at each other in confusion. Parker and Hardison never came to the bedroom door when they needed something, they just texted. In a split second, there was unison realization of what day it was, right as a female voice asked, “Savannah?”  
It was Sophie. They weren’t ready to face Sophie with their ill-advised pairing. The unguarded doorknob turned. Eliot found himself thrown on the other side of the bed out of the line of sight from the door as it opened. Staying out of sight, Eliot snuck a peek to see how Savannah was going to pull off looking so disheveled alone in her room, except when he looked up, Savannah’s shirt was on and her hair was pulled back. 

“Heeeey Sophie, what’s up?” Savannah asked, catching her breath. 

Sophie seemed curious but not suspicious. “Glad I finally found you. Hardison says it’s about time. We’re supposed to meet down in the conference area. Would you happen to know where Eliot is?”

Savannah fiddled with her messy ponytail. “You know, he was in the gym with me just a minute ago. We just got done sparring. He might be in the shower now, but I can get him and we’ll meet you down there?”

“Sparred pretty hard? You’re all red.”

Savannah shrugged. “Well, I can’t go easy on him.”

Sophie laughed, “That’s true. Already got a bit on ego that one.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hurry along, dear. We can’t miss this,” Sophie pressed as she patted Savannah’s shoulder and headed down the hall. Savannah closed the door as qucikly and quietly as she could. 

Eliot popped up to an upright position. “How did you get dressed so fast?” he asked frantically looking for his shirt. 

“Academy cocktail, I can move really fast when properly motivated. Eliot. Eliot! This is your shirt,” she told him, peeling off the white muscle shirt and handing it towards him. 

“Oh. Why’d you grab my shirt?” he asked as he pulled it on.

“I was moving fast, I just grabbed a shirt.” She crawled over the bed, snatched up her shirt, and started digging in her dresser. “Now, go wet your hair, spray this on, and hand me my hoodie,” she instructed, handing him an aerosol can of men’s body spray with only one arm through the arm hole in the tank top. 

“Okay. Why am I wetting my hair?”

She finally got her shirt on all the way. “Because I told her you were in the shower!”

“Right. Oh, about that, um, you don’t go easy on me because of my ego?” 

“Seriously? Get a move on!”

“I’m goin’!”

“Meet you down there,” she said, grabbing and pulling on her unretrieved hoodie and jogging down the hall towards downstairs. Eliot dampened his hair, spritzed on a little too much body and headed downstairs.

 

Nate, Sophie, and Savannah were sitting in front of the big screen in the conference area. There was a bowl of popcorn and a dish of gummy bears in front of them that they were snacking on as they watched the screen and waited anxiously. Eliot took a stool next to Savannah, hoping he looked casual enough. Fortunately, Sophie was too wrapped up in anticipation to care. 

The screen showed a high quality live feed of the roof. Parker walked out onto it and called out, “Hardison? What did you want to meet on the roof for? Are you okay? I know you hate it up here. Hardison?” She took a few steps forward and looked around searching for signs of the hacker. 

Finally, she noticed the harness at the edge of the roof with a note attached, “You know what to do.” Parker picked up the harness and held it tentatively before stepping into it. The screen switched to Hardison hanging off the side of the building from an identical harness. It appeared he attached the camera to the side of the building, so they could see him and Portland below him. He looked incredibly nervous, but he kept smiling and glancing up. He was very obviously making sure to not look down. One hand had a white-knuckle grip on the rappelling rope, the other clutched a red velvet box. It was open and revealed a gold ring with a five carat diamond, a two carat emerald on either side.   
Parker dropped into view, face scrunched in concern. “Hey, what are you doing out here? Are you--” She spotted the ring. “Oh.” A grin broke from ear-to-ear, and her eyes glistened.

“You...you know, I h-had a whole speech prepared a-about how I can't see a happy life without you and-and how I...see this high up, I forgot everything, b-but I wanted...you to know that I--”

She grabbed his harness, and pulled him closer. “Hardison, just say the thing, and we can get you back to solid footing!”

He laughed nervously. “Parker...Parker, will you m-marry me?”

“Yeah,” she squealed, yanking his lips to hers. 

“Thank--” Hardison was cut off when Parker jerked the cords, rocketing them upward and out of frame. The other four rushed up to the roof to meet them. They got onto the roof as Parker was helping Hardison step out of his harness. He plucked the ring out of the box still clutched tightly in his hand and took Parker’s. Their eyes locked onto each others’ as he slid the ring onto her finger. “I forgot...I love you, Parker.”

“I love you, Alec.”


	2. Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parker picks up a job amidst looking for wedding venues.

After another kiss, the others decided it was time to congratulate the couple. “I’m so proud of you two!” Sophie gushed crushing them both into a hug. “Congratulations!”

“Good job, Hardison,” Nate affirmed when she released them. He shook Hardison’s hand and pulled him into a hug. Nate took Parker’s hands, paying particular attention to the ring. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She squeezed him. 

Eliot hugged Hardison and clapped him on the back. “Congratulations, buddy.”

“You’re my best man, right?”

“You got it.”

Eliot went to Parker hugged her. “So you’re going to stick with the geek, huh? All over the world meeting all sorts of thieves, and you go with the guy that has a fishing video game?” he teased. 

Parker laughed at the good-natured ribbing. “Well, you know what they say.”

“Age of the Geek,” was murmured across the six of them with giggles. 

Savannah finally caught Parker. “I’m so happy for you!”

“You’re next,” Parker mouthed. Savannah put her finger to her lips. She and Eliot glanced at Sophie, who thankfully, wasn’t paying attention. 

Hardison embraced Savannah. “You did good,” she told him.

“I think so. Thanks for your help.”

She nodded. “Anytime.”

 

Eliot awoke to his phone going off after an unacceptable seventy-nine minutes. He looked at the notification to see a message with coordinates from Parker. Groaning a curse, he hit dial. “Parker, I know you did not just send me the location of a job meeting the day after you got engaged. You should be planning the wedding, spending time with your fiance, not waking me up after that much tequila.”

“Well, we were looking at venues, and I got distracted, and come down here, Hardison’s here too.”

About four sentences and no breaths. Eliot pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Parker, did you have coffee?”

“Yeah, there was this place that we were--”

“Right. Okay, I’ll be there...in a little while.” He hung up the phone as Savannah snuggled into him. She had slept a good three and a half hours. “Hey.” She groaned. He laughed. 

“How much did you have?”

“About couple shots shy of two bottles of Jack Daniels.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Nope.”

“Woman, why are you wearing my shirt...again?”

She pulled at the collar and smelled it. She had yet to open her eyes. “You weren’t wearing it.”

Eliot looked down to see that he was in nothing but boxers. “So I am not. Gimme the shirt.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He tugged at the hem. “Savannah, I said give me my shirt back.”

“Mm-mm.” She started laughing. 

He pursed his lips and huffed. He tossed his leg over and straddled her. She squealed as he yanked the shirt over her head. Her breath left her as he took her nipple into mouth. A hand clawed into his hair, and he listened intently to her ragged breaths. He kissed downward until he reached the hem of her underwear. He sighed at the sight of the stopping point. 

He traced his finger around her navel. “You know what would be cute?”

“A belly piercing?”

“Yeah,” he said, a note of surprise at her tone of agreement. 

She had a soft smile like she was remembering something as she smoothed his hair. “It was actually something I thought about since I was a kid. Like even before the Academy, I thought belly rings were cool.”

“So why haven’t you gotten one?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “I was distracted being a fugitive, dear.”

He shrugged. “Well, that hasn’t been true for three, almost four years.” He scooted up and rested his chin on her abdomen. 

“I was also unsure how you’d feel about it.”

He tilted his head. “Well, obviously I’d be okay with tattoos and piercings, so...”

“It’s insecurity, okay?!” She wouldn’t look at him. “It wasn’t until I finished the Academy treatments that I even started feeling like my body was my own. And that stupid job with the cult and all those people touching my stomach, I...”

With a disappointed sigh, he pulled himself forward and dropped his face in front of hers. “I know that I can tell you how beautiful you are a thousand times and that’s not going to fix it, but I’m going to tell you anyway. You’re gorgeous.” He kissed her nose. “You would look adorable with a belly ring.” He started kissing down again. He went in a zig-zag pattern, kissing above her left breast, below her right, her left abdomen, her right hip, her left thigh. Then he took hold of her right leg.  
“W-wait.” As usual, she still had her prosthetic on, and she hated anyone but her removing it. She let him take it off occasionally, but when she was insecure like this, it wasn’t happening. She slid it off and set it aside, her fingers intentionally brushing his. 

“Close your eyes,” he requested. When she did, he massaged, and kissed and sucked her thigh. Her breath shuddered delightfully.

“Don’t we have a job to get started on?”

Eliot flung himself off her and flopped next to her. “Seriously?” He wasn’t looking directly at her, but he could see her face. She looked regretful and resigned. She started to sit up and reattach her leg. With his own defeated sigh, he found himself remembering Aimee. This must have been how she felt, being put second to the job. In a way, it made him love Savannah a little more; he knew how it felt. Of course, it also worried him. Eliot knew the job eventually took him over, and it took him years to go from Aimee to Savannah. Would it take years for Savannah? Eliot could be patient, but with Hardison and Parker’s elevated relationship status and Nate and Sophie being married, he felt some pressure. 

“Hey.” Savannah was almost dressed, leaning on the bed with her face directly in front of his. She kissed him, a little hard, pulling his lip between her teeth. When she released him, she said quietly, “Thank you.” Old habits. What she said with her lips was completed what she said by what she said with her eyes. It was some sort of apology. Another smooch and she turned away and pulled on her sweater. He finally took the less-than-subtle hint, grabbed his jeans, and pulled them on. 

“Oh hell,” Eliot groaned as he punched in the coordinates. Before Savannah could ask, he dialed. “Parker,” he growled.

“Yeah?”

“Are you in Italy?”

“Yeah.”

Eliot looked at Savannah. She heard, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled. He warned Parker, “You know, you have to--”

“Call Sophie and private plane chartered, I know.”

Savannah couldn’t fly in anything remotely commercial. The first time the possibility came up, she had a bit of an episode. “You think I wanna be stuck in a flying tin can with a bunch of strangers with abilities and motives to do who knows what?” That was the gist of it anyway. Old habits died hard, and after over a decade of isolating herself from the general public, Savannah couldn’t ben anywhere with more than a few people and no escape route. Eliot never wanted to push her, so any time they had to fly somewhere, they had to charter a plane, which fortunately, they always had the resources to do.


	3. Cups and Bowls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Savannah deal with an emerging tension as they start their new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. Meant to get these posted yesterday on CK's birthday, but it just didn't happen. Sorry guys.

“It’s cute,” Savannah commented. They were in a diner called Tazze e Ciotole, roughly translated Cups and Bowls. Old-fashioned looking with wood paneling. There was a counter reminiscent of a 1950’s lunch counter and the kitchen had a tiny window for order pick-ups. There were booths with squishy yellow cushions along the walls and rest of the dining area was strewn with quaint parlor tables.   
“Why are we here?” Eliot asked. He winced as it came out rougher than he meant it. “I mean...”  
“Our clients are the owners,” Parker answered, side-stepping Eliot’s dissatisfaction.   
“Cups and Bowls, I can’t pronounce the Italian name, is the hub for its own little micro community. It’s being terrorized by Kilmer Yavetz.” Hardison presented the picture of a what would have been a handsome dark-haired man if not for the sleazy grin on his face on his ThinkPad. He swiped at the screen to replace Yavetz with an adorable elderly couple. “The Orsinis, the elderly couple that owns the place, says that Yavetz has been nuisance in the past. Always trying to buy the place, the Orsinis refuse, he makes some nasty comments, veiled threats that he never really follows through on, all the while frequenting Cups and Bowls daily. He switches between tipping like Wall Street banker, to being a cheap bastard, so there’s some fickle air to say the least. Lately, though, the Orsinis say he’s been pushing a little harder to get what he wants. He’s intentionally causing a ruckus that’s been causing the Orsinis to lose money, and while they’re not worried about being forced to sell just yet, they are worried about their regular and their staff, who’ve been abused by Yavetz regularly the last several years. Upon further investigation, it seems Yavetz is basically trying build is own nano-empire, and he thinks getting Cups and Bowls as his hub will ensure him to get the rest of the neighborhood. Seems like he’s trying to be his own little mafia.”  
Eliot pursed his lips as he considered the story, straddling a backwards parlor chair. He glanced over at Savannah who was staring at the ThinkPad as she ran through her own marathon of thoughts. “It reminds me of the the Mascone job, the time we pulled the Wire in McRory’s, and the one in San Juan, all at the same time.”  
“It does,” Parker agreed.   
“But it seems kind of...” Eliot struggled with what he knew was going to be an unpopular opinion.   
“Small potatoes?” Savannah offered.   
“No...yeah,” he admitted.   
“Small?” Hardison considered. He didn’t seem to agree or disagree. He turned to Parker. Her puckered expression made it obvious she did not agree with the appraisal.   
“Since when is a job too small?” she asked, almost demanding the challenge. Heads tilted as the absurdity struck.  
“Alright, you got a plan?” Eliot asked.   
“Well, we're taking over the diner as ‘new management’, we're being given a few staff members on loan. Be nice to them.” Eliot and Hardison rolled their eyes as if Parker was the one to dictate their human interaction. “We’ve worked out that Eliot and Savannah are going to pose as the husband and wife that bought the place.”  
“Why aren’t you two the owners?” Savannah asked. Eliot turned to her, knowing her real concern was the ‘husband and wife’ part.   
Parker didn’t even flinch. “I work better in the background, and Eliot’s the chef.” Eliot could see Savannah still didn’t agree, but she backed down anyway. “Savannah and I will wait on the tables; Yavetz will respond better to female waitstaff.” Savannah rolled her eyes with disgust.   
“What role is Hardison playing?” Savannah asked.   
“Mainly busing,” Parker answered.   
Hardison smirked. “No one pays attention to the bus boy. You get a lot of info that way.”  
Eliot looked around as a small pipe dream wheedled his way back into his mind for the first time in a few years. hey had The Pub, but it was primarily Hardison’s. This would be his, even just for a little while. And in Italy too, a hub of culinary art. Apparently, he had zoned out into his dream because he came to when Parker poked his forehead. “Wh-what?”   
“What’s going on in there?” Parker asked.  
Eliot pursed his lips. “So...if we’re in control of the place for a while, can we revamp...er, redecorate?” Savannah, Parker, and Hardison looked at him with smiles of people adoring a puppy.   
He was about to nix the idea, so they’d stop looking at him like that when Parker agreed, “We should definitely redecorate.”  
The diner was redecorated in charcoal and light turquoise to keep the diner bright but cozy. With permission from the Orsinis, Savannah insisted on having the floor redone; the uneven boards caught on her prosthetic too much. Then, of course, lights had to be rehung. Eliot regretted that decision several days into the redo when he walked into the dining room to find Savannah hanging from the ceiling upside down, a black metal contraption held her in place by her prosthetic leg.   
“Savannah, honey, what the hell are you doing up there?” he asked, his voice pitching high, giving away his concern.   
She didn’t even glance away from the bolt she was tightening. “I’m hanging these lights. We have a day and a half before we’re supposed to reopen, and we’re behind.”  
He scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. “I realize that, I do, but, uh, I’m not sure how I feel about you being up there. I mean, how safe is that...whatever that is?”  
She shook the light, testing its security. He reached for her, assuming the rough movement would shake her loose. Still firmly attached to the rafter, she swatted him away, still having not looked at him. “Pretty secure, I’ve used it since I left the Academy. Well, this one is actually a reinforced design Parker helped me with, but it’s basically the same.”  
He swept his hand through his hair. “Right, I’d still rather you weren’t--”  
“Would you be having this argument with Parker?” she demanded in a tone that echoed through the diner.  
The volume combined with the pointed question itself forced him to step backwards. His eyes widened, and unfortunately, his lips blurted out, “No,” before his brain could process the consequences of the answer.   
Angry heat radiated from her face. He heard a metallic click, and in a smooth roll, her feet smacked onto the floor. “Then why are you having it with me?!”   
“Well, you--”  
She pointed a firm finger at his nose. “No! You think that this overprotective thing is cute and charming, but I hate it.” Her voice shook. “I may not have fought in any wars on the books Eliot Spencer, but I held my own with people like you for eleven years, without you hovering over me, and I don’t need it now!”  
He put his hands out, he wasn’t sure if he was on the offensive or defensive. “Savannah, where is this coming from?”  
“I just told you!” She started to storm away.   
“Wait, where are you going?”  
“You wanted someone else to do the lights, you got it!”   
The footsteps faded, and Eliot knew he lost the argument. And he had no idea what it was about. He turned around to see Hardison tapping around on his ThinkPad, acting like he hadn’t seen a thing. He looked up sheepishly at Eliot. “What...what?” Eliot asked him.  
Hardison gestured sarcastically. “Yeah, because I know exactly how to handle women. I’m a connessior. That’s why I’ve had so many women chasing me, and--”  
“Alright, I get it, you’re clueless.”


	4. Sips of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of little events detailing just how cooperative Savannah and Eliot can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took on a life of its own and I'm almost sorry. Almost.

Both Hardison and Eliot remained clueless as to the meaning behind Savannah’s outburst. When he prodded Parker, she shrugged and told Eliot, “She already told you.” With that unhelpful comment out of the way, the job a day out, and Savannah having not said a word to him while they were supposed to be working directly together, Eliot decided he just had to bite the bullet and press her into talking to him.   
With the help of Hardison and Sophie (who could never resist lending a hand to a job, even if she commented that they could handle it themselves), they had suites in a nearby hotel. “I spent enough time living like a Spartan, I will not do it anymore if I don’t have to,” Savannah had insisted. No one argued, though, Eliot didn’t bring up the number of times she claimed she would wrap something up “in five minutes” and in twenty, he’d go looking to find her asleep on the diner floor.   
They all got their own suites. While Parker loved Hardison, she still always needed her own space, even on temporary jobs, and of course, Eliot and Savannah had separate suites to keep up the charade that they were not involved to Sophie. This meant Eliot didn’t know how Savannah had been sleeping. Any time Eliot asked how she slept, she just shrugged him off. The temptation to sneak into each other’s suites was there, but they had too much faith that Sophie would catch them. There was a suspicion she was onto them already. She had found it interesting they were posing as a couple...again.   
Night fell and Eliot approached Savannah’s suite. He knocked softly. “Hey.” No answer. He stood there for several minutes, feeling ignored and, whether he liked to admit it, hurt. With a gruff sigh, he turned to leave, mustering up the faith that Savannah could just focus on the job.   
“What are you doing here?” There she was, and unfortunately, the first thing he noticed was the dark circles under her eyes. They weren’t the worst they’d ever been, but they weren’t there when they had gotten to Italy. “Eliot?”  
He realized he was staring. “I...I-I wanted to see if we were okay...But...are you okay?” Her face puckered in consideration, and she nodded. He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “You sure? You seem tired.” She shrugged but leaned her face into his hand. She was very non verbal lately. Not too unlike her, but it was usually a sign there was something she wasn’t talking about. “So we’re okay? Earlier...”  
“I know. I’m sorry.” She looked like she was going to say more, but nothing came out. There was a long silence where they both just stared at each other. Eventually, they were both asking the same question without saying a word; could Eliot come in.  
A small nod confirmed, and they went in the suite together, fingers brushing. She glanced towards the door, seeming to make sure no one saw, and then closed it behind her. The click of the door seemed to make her feel safe enough to let down barriers and melt into him with a defeated whimper.   
He mumbled the obvious question into her hair, “You okay?”  
She rubbed her face on his shirt and told him, “Tired.”  
“So you haven’t been sleeping?” he asked, an accusatory tone slipped into his voice. She didn’t answer. He held her closer. She started pulling him further into the suite and slumped onto the cushy sofa in front of the very large flatscreen and took him with her. Apparently, she had decided she wanted to watch a movie; she had actually brought a large chunk of her DVD collection with her to Italy. She seemed to favor Marvel movies. They watched Iron Man 3, and one movie turned movie turned to two when she put in Thor: The Dark World without saying anything. She had run out of words for the day, he guessed. Through both movies, she seemed to snuggle closer and closer to him, with her knees in his lap and her upper body resting on his chest. As exhausted as she obviously was, she somehow stayed awake during both movies, but as soon as the credits rolled on Thor, she all but passed out, and he had to half-carry her to bed. He wasn’t sure if he should stay as her laid her onto the bed, bed as he stepped back, he felt a tug on his shirt. Her eyes weren’t even open, but she had a wad of his shirt in an insistent grip. “Um...” She didn’t stir, she didn’t even seem to be aware that she had a hold on him.   
He eased himself over her to the other side of the bed, (whether they would admit it or night, they had sides of the bed) careful to not wake her up and settled in. She pulled closer to him, pressing her forehead to his chest and sliding her knees into his; she never let go of his shirt.   
She slept a solid three and a half hours that night. She woke with a start, however. Her face contorted and she opened her eyes, pupils dilated. She exhaled as soon as she made eye contact with his concerned face. Then she registered her fist still clenched onto a wad of his shirt. She released him and then opened and closed her fist several times and briefly glanced up at him. “You alright?”  
“Yeah, you just had my shirt.” He brushed her hair over her ear. It was minute, but he saw her flinch. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she turned and got out of bed. “Savannah,” he called quietly.   
She dismissed him. “We open today and there’s still a lot of work to do. We should get going.”  
“Savannah,” he said again quietly. She just continued silently putting on her shoes.  
With an audible grunt of discontent, Eliot got up from the bed and went to the kitchen to put on coffee. “This is Italy, there's gotta be a martini shaker around here somewhere,” he said to himself as he rummaged through the suite’s kitchen while the coffee percolated. He successfully located it and threw a few ice cubes in before grabbing an Italian brand peppermint creamer he knew Savannah had purchased shortly after she arrived in her suite. Once he had introduced her to coffee, she got quickly addicted very particular. He added nearly half a cup of creamer and a three-quarter cup of strong, hot coffee to the shaker full of ice, and gave it a few shakes. He poured another three-quarter cup of coffee into an oversized mug. It was navy blue with multicolored sparkles painted on it. Savannah picked it because it looked like space, and she had brought it with her from Portland. It was the only thing glittery she would ever own, and only because the glitter didn’t come off. He stirred three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the mug and strained the icy mixture from the shaker. This brought the coffee to just barely above room temperature. He then repeated the process with an oversized mug printed with X-Men characters and put it in the fridge. One cup was never enough, no matter how big.  
For his into his square white mug, added a spoonful of sugar and a light splash of plain heavy cream. He took a long drink without even stirring and sighed, feeling much better. Savannah finally came out of the bedroom, still messing with her hair and rummaging through the duffel bag she could still never leave without. She walked as she went, not exactly paying attention to how far along she shuffled. Eliot took a sip of the almost-two-sweet concoction in Savannah's mug, cleared his throat to get her attention, and handed the mug towards her. She took it in both hands and took a huge gulp and then a longer, slower sip.   
“Mmmm, it's perfect, thank you,” she told him, that affectionate gleam finally back in her eye.   
She gestured for him to hand her his mug. He rolled his eyes. “Really? I’m already drinking it.”   
She gestured more insistently and nodded. “Yes, hand it here.” He complied, and she took a small sip of his hot caffeine, made a face, and handed it back to him.   
Eliot shook his head. “Every time. Don't know why.”  
She sipped at her coffee. “The same reason there was a sip missing from my cup when you handed it to me,” she quipped, deliberately staring into her cup instead of at him.   
He glanced away, laughing quietly. It was a ritual they had, one they’d never discussed, explained, or defended; though, they took turns arguing over the absurdity.


	5. Pound Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie pushes Eliot and Savannah to develop their newlywed personas.

They enjoyed their coffee a bit longer before deciding it was time to head to the diner. They exited the suite as the morning sun warmed the air and came face-to-face with Sophie. Eliot heard Savannah curse under her breath.  
Sophie’s curiosity was definitely piqued. “And what are you two up to at this hour?”  
Eliot could see the wheels turning in Savannah's head. “We had to open...and there were a few more things to take care of…” They weren’t turning fast enough.  
“And I showed up early this morning because I remembered we should probably get our story straight, you know, if we’re going to play a newlywed couple.”  
“Right. Uh-huh,” Savannah agreed, clearly trying to sound enthusiastic rather than petrified.   
‘“Like we figured we’d do the usual thing where we’ve been married as long as we’ve known each other, so a little over three years, still newlyweds.”  
“Oh?” Sophie’s interest was piqued. She was a sucker for character-building. “What else?”  
Eliot willed the wheels in Savannah’s head to turn. He couldn’t carry this improv show on his own. “And we came to Italy because...”  
“It’s where we honeymooned, and we fell in love with it,” Savannah chimed in just in time; Eliot nearly sighed with relief.   
“Aw,” Sophie cooed.   
“We met in a coffee shop. I noticed the distinct homemade breakfast sandwich he brought in; he was only in the coffee shope because his French press broke.”  
He tried to supress the grin. “I fell in love with her when she told me what she called ‘college coffee’ when the coffee pot and press are out of commission.” Eliot got more into character, gesturing with his hands and throwing in a chuckle. “It didn’t make sense that she was in a coffee shop when she knew how to make it out of anything. Turns out, she was there for the--”  
“Pound cake!” she finished, her own character developing as her facial expressions got more pronounced.   
“So, of course, I offered to make her my twist on pound cake. Orange zest, dark vanilla, dark chocolate drizzle.” It was subtle, but Eliot caught both Savannah and Sophie swallow a bit of collected saliva.  
“And after I had his cooking, how could I resist?” Savannah practically gushed.  
Sophie nodded and slid her finger thoughtfully along her jaw. “Alright, good. That's a good start. I think you could use some more work.” She put a hand on Savannah's shoulder. “Do you have some time, a minute or two, for us to do a little polishing?”  
Eliot could see Savannah resisting the urge to pull away from Sophie’s touch. She cleared her throat and swallowed. “You know, I really want to get to the diner to open, and I mean, we’re behind there too, so--”  
Eliot touched Sophie’s shoulder to distract her from his putting a calming hand on the small of Savannah's back. “You know what? We can multitask. We’re gonna go finish up some last minute details. Maybe you can go get some breakfast or something, meet us at the diner later, and we’ll, uh, polish. That work?”  
“Sounds great. Let's go. Later, Sophie!” Savannah rattled off the agreement like an auctioneer, yanking Eliot along.  
While Sophie didn’t come protesting after them, he waited until they got to the stairwell, bypassing the elevator Savannah would avoid using at any cost, before he reprimanded Savannah. “You have got to get it together. I know this is a small job, but you are completely off your game, here. What is your problem?”  
Inexplicably still grasping a fistful of Eliot's shirt, she voiced her concern. “She’s going to figure it out, Eliot, soon. It's not going to be pretty, especially when she finds out she was the last to know, and that I’ve been lying to her from the beginning. I’m supposed to balance being your wife for the con and being your platonic teammate for her, and I'm just not okay with any of this.”  
The way she said “any of this” raised a red flag. “Sophie? That's what all this is about?” She only sighed in response, not looking at him. “Savannah, you’ve been moody since--”  
She let go of his shirt and gave him a shove. “Moody?” She scoffed, turned away, and headed down the stairs. “We really need to get to the diner.”  
“Uh-uh. Come here.” He pulled her back on to the landing, holding her chin in place to get eye contact. “Sophie was going to find out anyway, and it was never going to be convenient. She’ll freak out. She’ll get over it. Because she’ll see how happy you make me…”  
He pulled her bottom lip between his, and instantly, her hands were underneath his shirt. He pushed his tongue over hers, and he felt her suck in a breath. She leaned in, so he pulled her legs around his waist and carried her over to the wall to help keep her up. Her legs tightened around him, almost painfully. Teeth scraped tongues and lips, but it was the need for air that finally separated their faces.   
“Well, I know at least some part of you likes me,” Eliot assured himself aloud.  
Her eyebrows pulled together in conflict. “Like you? Of course I like you. I mean, I...love you. Eliot.”  
He held her upright by her shoulders and shifted away from the wall, letting her legs drop from his waist with a couple of uncomfortably loud thuds. “You tryna convince me or you?”  
“Eliot.” It sounded like a plea, for what, he wasn’t sure. He looked down, trying not to search her face for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted. “You can't be questioning how I feel about you?”  
“Really, because it feels like you are!” It was louder than he meant it. He knew she knew he was hurt, but he didn't like hearing it in his voice.  
“That isn't what I'm questioning!” she insisted.  
“Then what is it?!” he roared.   
The volume didn’t seem to affect her. It truly was the questions she was struggling with. She sighed as if she was about to answer then blinked away tears, adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and took off down the stairs. “I’m going to the diner. Don’t feel the need to follow any time soon.” Her footsteps faded, and he kicked the wall several times in frustration. He waited until he couldn’t hear her at all before heading out at a snail's pace in order to not catch up to her.

Eliot arrived at the diner to find Sophie already there, sipping from a to-go cup from the coffee cafe from a few blocks down. “There you are. What took so long? You two left at the same time, didn’t you?”  
Eliot cleared his throat with a grunt as he tried to think of an explanation. “I thought I had misplaced the aprons, and sent him back to go get them,” Savannah answered. He realized he had only heard her not seen her. He followed the sound of her voice to find her up in the rafters adjusting cameras Hardison had installed the day prior.   
He saw Sophie glance at his hands looking for the offending aprons. “I, uh, didn’t find them?”  
“I did,” Savannah explained. “I just misplaced them in the kitchen.” The aprons matched the light charcoal of the diner’s new decor and trimmed in crocheted lace with the same light turquoise.   
Eliot crossed his arms as he glared into the rafters. He had to try and cover his concern from both of them. “You almost done up there? Savannah?”  
“Can you start prep in the kitchen? I’ll be in there to help you when I'm done?” Apparently not.  
“You need any help?” He was more insisting than asking.  
“Eliot, the kitchen, thank you,” she directed through her teeth.  
He rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen.


	6. Honey & Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Savannah toe the line in hiding their relationship from Sophie.

It seemed like hours before Savannah finally dropped from the rafters, exhaling with finality. She looked around, surveying the diner to see what else needed to be done. She glanced towards the kitchen and snapped her fingers. “Right.”  
She jogged over to the kitchen, grabbed one of the plain linen aprons and stepped over to Eliot. “Where do you need me?”  
“You two are going to have to do much better than that if you're going to do much better than that if you're going to play a newlywed couple,” Sophie said. “You hardly seem like friends right now. Eliot, what did you do?” She punctuated the accusation with putting her hands on her hips.   
“Oh, no, Sophie, it's my fault. I just get caught up in work mode, and I can get snappy. We’re gonna be fine, Sophie, really.”   
Sophie didn’t seem sure. Eliot wasn't either. “Okay, well, since you two are working in here together, do you we want to work on...polishing, as Eliot put it?” Savannah looked at Eliot and they both nodded. “So, let's try some key quirks in your relationship. We have coffee and food, but what else?”  
Eliot put his arm around Savannah's waist and pulled her into his hip. “Maybe we just can't keep our hands off each other!”   
Savannah stumbled from the pull but kept upright. “I don’t know if we can agree to that,” she laughed nervously.   
Sophie cooed with disappointment, “Oh, but it would be so fitting! Newlyweds all over each other, it's classic. But if you're not comfortable…”  
Eliot gave Savannah a subtle squeeze. She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Alright, I can put up with it.”  
“Are you sure, Savannah? It can be awkward if--”  
Savannah cut her off. “It’s fine, Sophie. We know where the line is.”  
Sophie searched her face and glanced toward Eliot. She patted her hands on the table. “Alright, what else?”   
There was a long silence as the three of them thought. Eliot got a seed of an idea and willed Savannah took look at him. It took just a few seconds. She caught his eye and held his gaze. “We can work together and hardly speak.”  
Sophie looked intrigued, or maybe confused. “Er, can you?”  
“Pancakes,” Eliot directed.  
“Time crunch,” Savannah added. They got to work following synchronized nods. She gathered ingredients while he gathered cookware and utensils. He turned on a burner, and they simultaneously set up a mixing station nearby. She started melting butter and cracking eggs after she set up the dry ingredients for him to start with. While she wasn’t a chef in any sense, nowhere close to Eliot's skill, she had shadowed him long enough in the kitchen to be a damn good appliance in the kitchen. He’d hand her something, and she knew whether to put it away, rinse it or discard it; sometimes, she’d do it before he’d even had the forethought to hand it to her. No bumping, no “whoops”, no “where’s the--?”; just teamwork. In just a few short minutes, they presented Sophie with a small stack of pancakes layered with fresh-cut strawberries and drizzled with honey.   
She took a hesitant bite but grinned instantly. “That was...impressive,” she stated suspiciously. They glanced at each other, trying to read just how to play it off. “How did you two pull that off?”   
“Sparring,” Eliot answered instinctively. “We spar almost every day. Even when you don't talk, you get to know someone, how they move.”  
Savannah added, “And I’m usually the only one up when Eliot starts cooking. Unless Hardison’s gaming.”  
“But he doesn't pay attention when I cook. Parker tries, but she's usually sifting through clients or working on a rig, so she gets distracted. Of course, Savannah’s only there to steal food!” He elbowed her.   
Sophie admonished him, “Eliot! That's not nice!”  
Savannah snorted, “No, it's true. I learn stuff, though. Like I'm not good at actually doing the cooking, but I get an idea of what the next step is.”  
Sophie started turning her coffee cup as if they were the gears in her mind. “So you two spend a lot of time together? Like, a lot.” Neither of them had a response. Eliot felt Savannah shifting minutely away from him. “Savannah, do you think I could have a word with you, privately?”  
Savannah adjusted her shirt that didn't need adjusting. “You know, there's still a lot to do. The kitchen needs to be cleaned and reprepped. I need to finish setting up the tables, change clothes, find the menus that I misplaced again. Just so much to do, you know?”  
“After closing then?” she pressed, getting up from the table and pushing in her chair.  
“Uh, sure.”  
“Eliot, can you and I--”  
Savannah cut her off, “I need him in the kitchen. Sorry, Sophie.”  
There was a brief narrowing of her eyes before she exited. Savannah gave Eliot a playful shove. “You suck!”  
He laughed, “What?”  
“Oh, you know what!” He did. He had been subtly pinching her butt since the pancakes were finished. He reached for her rear again. She half-heartedly dodged him, but he caught a full hand of her thigh. He pulled gently, and her lips met his. She gripped his shoulders and yanked him closer. He lifted her up and sat her on the table. Her trembling knees rested on either side of him, and she let out a lustful whimper. She ran one of her hands up the back of his neck and took a tight fistful of his hair. He was caught off guard when her hand snaked over his inner thigh and pressed so deliberately against his member. He bit into her lip with a growl. Breathing got heavier as they forced themselves further into each other.  
So into each other, they didn't register the back doors swing open and the other pair walk in until they heard Hardison. “Hey, guys, we just ran into Sophie, and she seemed kinda--whoa!”  
The unexpected company caused Savannah to jump, knocking Eliot off balance. Being tangled together, they couldn’t get their bearings. Eliot fell over, and with a yell, Savannah came off the table on top of him. They sat up frantically, only their heads and shoulders visible to the amused couple by the door. Savannah's sweat-dampened t-shirt hung off one arm. Eliot's shirt was draped over his neck. He could feel the heat from Savannah's embarrassed cheeks. She sputtered.  
“So Sophie seemed a little irate, was this why?” Hardison asked.   
Savannah shook her head and pulled on her shirt. “It doesn’t seem like it, but I think she will soon. I’ve been blowing her off because I'm not ready to talk about it.”  
"Why not?" Eliot asked. He wasn’t aware he'd voiced the question until Savannah scoffed and scowled at him.   
She got up, having redressed, grabbed the aprons off the counter and handed one to Parker. "I think they actually came out kinda cute."  
Parker put it on, running her hands over the lace. "Yeah."  
Savannah grabbed a stack of menus. "Alright. I guess it's time to open."


	7. Bowling and Baseball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The diner opens.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my wife Jenna and I are honored that you would welcome two yanks from the States here, and we are proud to reopen Tazze e Ciotole under new management. Come on in.” Eliot put his hand over Savannah's as she held a big, shiny pair of scissors to the wide red ribbon across the doors of the diner. At the sound of the metallic snip, they pecked affectionately. Eliot glanced at Nate and Sophie, watching disguised at the back of the crowd.   
It was surprisingly sizable. It seemed the Orsinis had talked up the new management enough that a lot of their regulars were eager to sample the wares of the new owners. They eagerly but politely filed in, Orsinis included. Eliot surreptitiously leaned over to them and asked, “I don’t see Yavetz. Did he skip out?”  
“He’ll arrive fashionably late,” the wife answered. “He’ll want to make an entrance. Keep the table by the chef’s window open.”   
Eliot nodded gratefully for the tip, squeezed Savannah's hand and went to his spot in the kitchen, leaving the rest in the dining room.  
Savannah and Parker got straight to work, milling amongst the tables, taking orders chatting and getting to know folks. Making sure the townsfolk loved the new diner as well as the old one would make it easier to ostracize Yavetz and do away with him.   
The girls were excellent waitresses thanks to their knack for collecting information on people out of habit. After the initial rush of orders, things slowed down as diners ate and chatted, and that's when Eliot and Savannah picked up the habit of pecking each other at the pick-up window as dessert orders trickled in. Each peck was followed by a chorus of "awww"s from customers and subsequently more dessert orders.  
This was, of course, about the time Yavetz, and his crew of five. Hardison helped Savannah push two tables together and the mini-mafia got seated. "What can I get y'all?" Savannah asked in her character's syrupy-sweet Southern accent.   
While everyone on the team knew Italian, it seemed this little town found fish-out-of-water Americans, and their accents, endearing. It seemed Southern Hospitality and Little Italy hospitality were similar. Plus, like most of Europe, the townsfolk spoke both Italian and English. The team was able to sprinkle in a little broken Italian here and there to endear themselves further.  
The men gave their orders deliberately slow, as if they didn't expect Savannah to understand them, while they eyeballed Hardison, Parker, Eliot, and the Orsinis,who were sitting quietly at a corner table, watching obviously. Eliot was watching as much as he could while he frequently had to turn his attention back to the kitchen with the increasing dessert orders. He got wrapped up in the food when there was a sudden commotion in the dining area. He turned off heating elements and rushed out of the kitchen to see Yavetz on the ground, cursing and clutching a rapidly swelling dislocated shoulder. Savannah was in an offensive stance in front of him, hand still out from taking down Yavetz. For whatever reason, instead of throwing him over her shoulder from behind in the style of a baseball pitch, she drug him across the floor like a bowling toss and threw him behind her in the follow-through. He had to remind himself to not show he was impressed...and maybe a little turned on.  
“What’s going on?” he asked as innocently as possible.  
“Your cagna attacked me!” Yavetz sputtered.   
Eliot raised his eyebrows at the name-calling, immediately agreeing with Savannah for lashing out, but outwardly, he had to remain neutral. He looked to her, inviting her to justify the injury. She pointed an angry finger towards the groaning man on the floor. “This sleazebag grabbed my ass!”  
Damn. Savannah could never put up with uninvited touching. Putting up with all the belly-grabbing with Blue Suns nearly sent her over the edge. And ass-grabbing? Never acceptable. Unless it was Eliot. But this, of course, wasn't.   
He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, but this didn't quite bode well for the job. “Can I talk to you please, Jenna?” he asked stiffly, putting a hand on her arm. He leaned towards Yavetz. “I cannot apologize enough. We’ll get you some ice, and I’ll whip something up for you on the house.” He gestured to Hardison. “Baker? Ice, please.” Hardison nodded and went on his way.  
He pulled Savannah to the door of the kitchen, but not through it. Hopefully, she would get the message to stay in character and make it a good show.   
“You cannot...bowl a customer like that!” He kept his voice low but audible.  
“He grabbed my ass!” She subconsciously matched his volume.  
“Jenna, we just opened! We can’t have this!”  
“So I'm just supposed to be okay with this?!”  
“No! No. But you don't attack people.”  
She crossed her arms. He wasn’t sure if she was arguing in character or not. “Attack?! He...attacked me first.”  
“That wasn't an attack, it was just...rude.” Eliot knew almost immediately that he said the exact wrong thing. Her eyes got glassy, and it was really hard to hope she was acting.  
“So you don't care that someone just put their hands on me, is that what I'm hearing?” Cracks in her voice told him it was time to pull the curtain.  
He pushed her through the kitchen door and took a step closer to her. His voice lowered even further, even out of site and earshot of the diners. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t appreciate that the slimeball put his hands on you, either. I really don't. Under different circumstances, I’d crush his face myself. I'm real proud of how you handled it. I’m impressed, really. But we need to make a certain impression right now.”   
The guilt set in on her face finally. “Dammit. I just…”  
He took her face in his hands. “It’s not the end of the world. I wouldn't ask you to have just put up with that. I...we just need you to look a little guilty.” She bit the inside of her bottom lip and nodded. He kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear, “I love you, Savannah.”  
As if she timed it, Parker hit the bell in the window, and called “Order up!” With simultaneous nods, Savannah and Eliot went back to their stations.  
Savannah was so shaky. Sure, grifting wasn’t her strongest skill, but she held her own. It dawned on him. Often times, when Savannah would grift, the Soldier would engage, but it never did. It didn’t on the cult job either. Both jobs involved a lot of unwanted touching. Was that what was shaking her up? Or was it something more personal?  
He decided he couldn’t put Savannah through that again. He was going to get Yavetz’s direct attention and keep his attention off Savannah. He watched intently as Savannah served Yavetz a caramel drizzled eclair on the house. “I’m so sorry,” she assured him. “You just startled me is all.”  
“Of course,” he murmured and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Savannah looked like she had swallowed acid, clenching her fists as she stomped away. Eliot gave her a thumbs up. She returned a dissatisfied nod.   
Fortunately for Eliot, Yavetz and his crew stuck around long after the rush dissipated. Even the Orsinis had been escorted out by Hardison. The place was nearly empty, anticipating the next rush.  
Eliot tossed a towel over his shoulder, and approached the table, making sure neither Savannah nor Parker were in earshot. He leaned down and put his arm around Yavetz. “How are we doing, Mr. Yavetz? Did you like what I whipped up for ya?”  
Yavetz pursed his wrinkled lips and nodded slowly. “It was good, impressive for an American,” he patronized.   
Eliot chuckled through tight lips. “Good to hear, good to hear.” He leaned obscenely close to Yavetz’s ear. “Now if you ever lay a finger on my wife again, I'll serve you your own intestines, sautéed in a nice wine to match. Do we have an understanding?”  
Yavetz’s eyes widened in offense, but Eliot's accompanying glare kept him quiet. Eliot straightened and with a wide grin, he wished them a good day, sweeping back into the kitchen.


	8. Disengage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot struggles as he realizes Savannah's emotional distance is intentional

Yavetz and company made their exit shortly after Eliot's “understanding”. The four working the diner began quietly bussing tables awaiting the next rush of customers. Eliot noticed Savannah's soldier persona had finally kicked in, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.  
The next rush came, and the diner was delightfully busy. The rest of the day continued without incident, yet at closing time as they were wiping down tables one last time and prepping for the next day, Savannah looked pretty drained. As they finished up and Parker and Hardison left the diner in-step ahead of them, Eliot offered Savannah his arm, but she barely acknowledged him. He took a closer look to see the soldier was still engaged, so he walked quietly beside her, half-expecting her to leave him behind as if he wasn’t there. However, she kept his easy pace. He walked with her all the way to the door of her suite in silence and finally decided to say something.   
He put both hands on her shoulders. “Hey. I need you to know something.” Finally, her pupils dilated, and the soldier disengaged. She looked at him expectantly, heavy eyelids having stuck around. “I love you. And you did good today.” She looked like she wanted to smile but was too damn tired. He gently squeezed her shoulders. “He’s not going to touch you again, alright?”  
She finally looked at him dead on, eyes glassy. Her lips parted as if she had a response, but there was only silence. Then she nodded, a wordless thanks. She opened the door to her suite and stepped inside. He wasn’t sure if he was welcome inside, so he was just going to wait for her to close the door to head to his own suite. She stood just past the door for a bit before she reached back and pulled on the hem of his shirt, urging him inside without asking. He wrapped her in his arms. She draped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead on his shoulder. Her sigh spoke volumes. He kept an arm around her waist as she shuffled to bed. She kicked off her shoes and fell into bed, sluggishly stripping down to a black tank top and pale blue boyshorts. He kicked off his jeans and shoes and peeled off his t-shirt leaving himself in similar state of sleepwear, an undershirt and boxers.  
He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he knew he’d end up banished to his suite and she would remain exhausted from lack of sleep.  
When he slid into the bed, she adjusted her position to face him, knees touching his, breath brushing his chest. She fell asleep almost instantly, like she’d had the most exhausting day. It was fitful, however. The way her eyes shifted rapidly under the lids, the way her lips trembled and her fingers twitched; even her legs threatened to kick. She was having night terrors, for sure, just mild ones. He would brush her hair with his fingers or slide his hand down her arm, and she would calm, temporarily at least.  
As she woke, she sucked in a desperate breath, as if someone had scared the life out of her. She opened her eyes and looked directly into Eliot's. There was a soft smile on her lips; she looked excessively comfortable. For a moment, he wanted to lay there forever, with her looking at him that way, like he was the sun. He brushed her hair over her ear, and her smile flickered and melted. Briefly, it looked like she was searching his face until he watched her pupils dilate and the Soldier engaged.  
He wanted to say her name to see if she came back, but it was pointless. It was at that point he realized that Savannah was engaging the Soldier by choice; she could control it. She was shutting him out intentionally. There was a reason, he told himself, a good reason she would confess eventually.  
They got dressed and walked down to the diner in utter silence. Weeks went on. The diner was shockingly busy. Yavetz and his underlings ate at the diner every day. It became clear by his greetings that it was up to Eliot to bond with him and be his downfall. However, Eliot quickly noticed that Yavetz might be trying to do the same to him. It didn’t happen daily, but often enough that it appeared Yavetz was targeting Savannah. He would lean his walking cane against the table and tilt it out just enough to trip her. Or he would splash water on the floor when he thought no one was looking and she would slip. Or, what Eliot found the most irritating was when he would claim he ordered something completely different than what she had brought him.   
The last transgression usually required Eliot to come out and smooth things over. It seemed to create the illusion that Eliot and Yavetz were bonding. More and more frequently, Yavetz would stay past eating; his crew would come as the later rush was dying down. This gave Yavetz the opportunity to stay til closing and invite Eliot to have a drink with him. Most nights, he would accept. He threw in a few declines to not seem to eager to spend time with him. And damn near every time, he made Yavetz ask more than once. Often times, just to push his luck, Eliot would say, “Let me check and see if Jenna has plans tonight.” More than once, Eliot would agree to the drink and then “accidentally” get caught up with Savannah in the kitchen. He would wait for Yavetz to come looking for him, and stumble out of the kitchen looking visibly disheveled, if he didn’t discover Savannah wrapped around his waist to begin with.   
Savannah would stay behind. No one thought it was a good idea for Eliot to be completely alone with Yavetz and company. It would look suspicious if all three of them stayed, like they initially wanted, so Savannah took the mantle. She couldn’t sleep without him anyway. She would wait in the kitchen for a while, eventually moving to the truck parked out back when she got restless. She couldn’t tolerate listening to Yavetz’s crass interpretation of the little Italian town. He saw himself an up-and-coming Lord over the serfs. She would turn down her com once he sat down with Yavetz and just keep an eye out for trouble from the window.   
Her presence comforted Eliot. She was the first to demand that Eliot not be left alone. He knew everyone agreed and Savannah was just the first to say something, but it counted. He knew Savannah loved him; at the end of the hardest days he knew that. There was just something...bothering her.


	9. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yavetz puts asks Eliot why the Orsinis sold to him and Savannah

“I like you, Paul,” Yavetz mused to Eliot, “despite your wife.” It had been a difficult day between Yavetz and Savannah, to be sure.

Eliot swiped Yavet’s scotch glass. “Now, Kilmer, we talked about this, you can’t go trashin’ my lady. She’s the reason I even came here, remember. I like you, Kilmer. I don’t want to have a problem with you.”

He put up his hands in lazy surrender. “I kid, I kid,” he said, dripping with insincerity. Eliot handed the glass back and took a sip from his own. He glanced through the kitchen window. Savannah was puttering around with Stella and Allessandro; the two waiters that the Orsinis had on staff and “lent” to the team. They would come in for the busier evening crowds. Eliot couldn’t help but get a little insecure with how much time she spent with them. She was a little closer to their age, and he knew how Italians could get flirty. He knew too well. And it was never clear whether Savannah had a gender preference or not, so he couldn’t feel safe with either of them. Savannah was distant before Italy, though. And neither Stella or Alessandro seemed anything but professional. She had to talk to him soon. Her silence was wearing on him. 

“Besides, you’re just jealous that she’s mine,” Eliot joked. Or he thought he did. Yavetz’s expression changed, however, and he nodded. 

“You’re right. I am jealous of you, Paul. For many reasons. Such as the Orsinis selling to you. I ask them for years to sell to me. They sell to you while you not a part of this community. Why is that?”

Eliot swallowed the last of his scotch in a single gulp. “Well, Kilmer,” he started, his voice straining past the large quantity of alcohol, as he thought desperately to cook up an explanation that didn’t step on Yavetz’s toes. He knew Yavetz was building towards this question for a while, and until now, he’d been able to keep the subject at bay.   
And like an answered prayer, a cacophony came from the kitchen followed by, “Dammit! Paul, honey, I need a hand!” Eliot turned towards the the kitchen, unsure. It seemed off that Savannah would need his help with something as trivial as resetting the kitchen. The first thing he spotted as she came out of the kitchen was the reddening towel pressed to her forearm. “Now, Paul,” she insisted through her teeth. 

He nearly knocked his chair over getting to her. “What happened?”

“I was drying a knife and putting it back in the block and it slipped,” she explained, sounding eerily like a damsel. 

“Was anyone else hurt?” 

“I don’t think so. No.”

“Let me see.”

She shifted the towel, so only the two of them, and not Yavetz, could see. “It’s just a scratch. Make your exit,” she directed just above her breath. 

He resisted the smile and pressed the towel back over the scratch. “You’re amazing,” he mouthed. “Hold tight, honey,” he said aloud, putting the show back on for Yavetz. He returned to the table but didn’t sit down. “Kilmer, buddy, we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He made a subtle but clear gesture for the man to vacate his chair. Yavetz stuttered in object as he obliged and Eliot shuffled him out the door. 

Eliot pulled Savannah into the kitchen in case Yavetz was still outside. He squeezed her hands and kissed her. “You!” he gushed proudly. “You just...” He kissed her again. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.” She glanced up. 

“You don’t normally listen to us?”

She shook her head. “I turn my com down, not off. I knew the elephant in the room was growing.” 

“A lot faster than I thought.”

“You guys should probably head home,” Savannah told Stella and Alessandro. There were nods as they gathered their things. 

“Let someone know when you make it home,” Eliot reminded them as they went out the door. 

“I worry about them,” Savannah sighed. “Out there alone with who knows what goons around.” She started digging into her thigh as Eliot double-checked the kitchen.

“They know their way around. And they would have been dealt with by now if Yavetz saw them as threats,” he assured her, starting to pay closer attention to her as she pulled a roll of athletic tape from her thigh. He furrowed his brow in morbid curiosity as she pressed a seam closed in the prosthetic. “Are...Are you stashing things in your high-tech leg?”

She winked as she ripped a long strip from roll off with her teeth. “Got my six month update a couple months ago. Had secret compartments put in.” She smoothed the long strip across the cut and started reinforcing it with smaller strips laid perpendicular across it. 

“What else ya got in there, huh?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

She crammed the tape back in and patted the compartment closed. “That’s for me to know.”

He got sensually close to her, feeling her breath on his chest. Like magnets, her hands found his hips. “And for me to find out?” he dared into her ear. 

“I...” She started to answer but lost her words as he gripped the backs of her thighs and pulled them close. He slid his teeth over bottom lip and bit down just a bit. Her arms wrapped around him. He briefly marveled at her strength. It never got old. Her moan sent an encouraging pulse through him. It felt far sexier than it should have to untie her apron and let it fall to the floor. He lifted her onto the counter and pressed her against the wall. Her shoulders hit the sill of the kitchen window. “Yes.” He almost wasn’t sure if he heard her. But her face. Without a word, just nudge with her foot demanded he move forward. He pulled up, knees on the counter, and buried his face into her shoulder. She went crazy, in the best way, for his stubble. He bit down just hard enough for her to contract. Her hands latched on to his rear end like she was bracing for a crash. She craned her neck and pulled his ear between her teeth. He snarled like a beast content with fresh kill. 

The thought flashed across his mind. Would it happen now? In the heat of the moment? Would she stop him? He knew she would. Not just because of her rules, but because he knew she was holding something deep, something important hostage with her insecurity. He couldn’t do it. But he would toe the line as far as he could. He let his face feel the distance between her shoulder and her waist before taking hold of the hem of her top with his teeth. Her nails clawed delightfully up his back before her fingers went into his hair like a jockey gripping reigns. 

As he started to lean back, shirt still in his mouth to get it out of his way, she gasped “Eliot.” He returned an excited growl. “Maybe this isn’t the place,” she suggested, still catching her breath. The hem fell from his lips. He looked up at her face and caught on that he misread her initial address. She was flushed and wide-eyed with nerves. He slid backwards on the counter, trying to hide the defeat in his sigh. “I don’t want to have to reclean the kitchen,” she justified. There was but a seed of honesty in her excuse. He didn’t have a response. “Eliot, p--”

She was cut off by his phone ringing. It was Parker. “It’s like you guys plans this,” he sneered before answering. “What is it, Parker?...Son of a bitch, we’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone shut and answered Savannah’s look of concern. “Mr. Orsini’s in the hospital.”

“Yavetz?!” They were already picking up a sprint out the door. 

“Heart attack.”

“It’s like they plan these things.”

“Wouldn’t put it past them.”


	10. Ticking Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team must drive forward to take down Yavetz after Mr. Orsini taps at death's door.

“Oh, I told Miss Parker you didn’t have to come!” Mrs. Orsini insisted, unsuccessfully trying to smooth her frazzled silvery white hair. Savannah and Eliot had just arrived, and judging by the state of their coats, Parker and Hardison hadn’t arrived too soon before. Mrs. Orsini took Parker’s hands. “Sweet girl.” She hugged Parker tightly. 

Parker hugged her back, looking over at Mr. Orsini resting in the white hospital bed. She looked more terrified than the Orsinis. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Oh, it was minor. Just barely a little cardiac arrest. He will be okay. This is why you didn’t need to come. But thank you. It means much.”

“Well, we’re glad he’s going to make it. But it is going to make Yavetz push harder if he thinks you guys are fading,” Hardison said. Parker looked displeased with the comment.

Eliot scraped over his eyebrow with his thumbnail. “Hardison’s right.”

Parker opened her mouth to dispute, but Mrs. Orsini spoke up first. “We are not naive. It is something we have been putting off. You never want to face getting old. Something like this,” she gestured to Mr. Orsini, “Even minor, it is the sign that we need to resolve this beyond ourselves.” 

“We will,” Parker assured her. Then she looked at Eliot. 

“Tazze e Ciotole is important to the people here,” she continued. “When it is our time, we want our successors to uphold what it means. We want them to be safe.”

“That’s what we want too,” Eliot promised. “You can’t attack a guy like Yavetz head on. He’s feeling insecure, and that’ll work for us, I can tell you that. A little more time and I can get under his feet.” Mrs. Orsini looked concerned.

“This is a smaller job than we’re used to dealing with,” Hardison explained carefully. “We couldn’t do our research ahead of time, so we have to do it in the job. It can take some time to figure out how to get under Yavetz’s feet so he falls.” 

“We’re still discussing the next step. But we won’t let you down,” Savannah added. And then she looked at Eliot. He knew she was trying to tell him something, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. She had put in the perfect position not to ask. 

A nurse came in to check Mr. Orsini’s vitals. Parker signaled that it was a good time to step out. As they made it outside, Savannah shook her head like she was trying to shake something off. “What’s up?”

“I don’t like places with that many lab coats.” He put his arm around her, and she just sighed. 

There was indeed a meeting in Parker’s suite to discuss moving further with Yavetz take down. “Geez, Parker,” Savannah scoffed. Amidst job notes were bridal magazines covering every other available surface. Savannah looked like she had been walked into a pit of snakes. Eliot empathized on a few levels. 

“Really, Parker?” he wondered. 

“Not now,” she dismissed. Parker began pacing about, shifting magazines and notes about in no discernible pattern. “So why, after weeks of waiting tables, is Yavetz still terrorizing Cups and Bowls?”

The question was directed at Eliot. Her tone hit a nerve. “Are you saying I’m not doing my job?” 

“At best, you’re dragging your feet!”

“Well, maybe if you’d put a little thought into this job before you took it, I wouldn’t be flying by the seat of pants!”

“Or you could have done a little research instead of redesigning the Orsinis’ livelihood into your little fantasy!”

“Hey!” Hardison stepped in between them, hands up to block possible blows. He addressed Eliot first. “Now we spend half our jobs improvising. It’s what we’re good at.” He turned to Parker. “And your need to jump off anything over three stories has gotten in our way more than once. You can’t hate on anybody for trying to make the best of their role in a job.” He addressed the whole of them, including a suspiciously silent Savannah. “But we do need to get the ball rolling. So Eliot, I suggest you get desperate. From all the bellyaching I’ve been eavesdropping on, I think a private party would be a great next step. Yavetz and all his little buddies get to be the center of attention. Add some booze, create some tension, the mini mafia dissolves.”

“Just like with Blue Suns,” Savannah said, a discontent crinkle in her nose. Hardison nodded. “We’re getting repetitive.”

“So are they.” Parker produced a wallet, opened it, and pulled out a worn business card. She flicked it to Savannah. Eliot examined it over her shoulder. The card was a golden yellow color. Faded lettering was printed over a setting blue sun. 

Savannah’s lips puckered in disgust. “They were an up and coming chapter of Blue Suns.”

“Dissolved in title but not quite in intention,” Hardison confirmed. 

“Gross.” Savannah stepped around tables and started glancing at notes. “So, we’re having a party. Next Thursday is probably a good day for it.” 

“Over a week from now?” It was not a suggestion that pleased Parker.

Eliot crossed his arms and answered, “You tell a guy like Yavetz there’s a last minute party for him and his buddies after he got a very suspicious send off this evening, they’ll show up ready for an ambush, not in the mood to drink and give up information.”

Parker squinted. “Suspicious send off?”

Eliot hunched his shoulders, not proud of the events earlier in the evening. “Yavetz asked why the Orsinis sold to us instead of him. I didn’t have an answer. Savannah gave me an out.”

“An out?” Parker asked.

“A classic.” He took Savannah’s arm and showed Parker the bandage. “Fake emergency.”

Hardison cocked an eyebrow. “You faked an emergency by actually cutting your arm?”

“I ‘dropped a knife’,” Savannah explained.

“But you actually cut yourself?”

She rolled her eyes and yanked off the tape. “It’s already almost healed.”

Hardison stepped back, not keen to be close to any sort of wound. Eliot flicked him. “Grow up, man.”

Savannah went back to the notes. “Parker, you should...Man, these are all mixed up.” She started dividing sheets into piles. “Parker, you should probably take the main waitress role that night. If I do it, Yavetz is just going to cause problems and we won’t get anything.”

“You should probably take on a hostess role, Savannah,” Eliot suggested. 

He got the exact contempt look he was expecting. “Why?”

“Because it makes no sense for me to throw a party in our restaurant without my wife...the woman playing my wife.”

She shook her head. “It’s going to get on Yavetz’s nerves. He won’t tell you anything.”

“He’s going to get suspicious if you’re not around.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“We can’t treat this like drinks after closing.”

“I agree with Eliot,” Parker cut in. Savannah looked betrayed. 

Hardison backed her up. “Yeah, Yavetz needs to see Eliot as someone who doesn’t back down, so he sees him as a potential partner instead of a pet.”

Savannah glared at Hardison. “Since when did you...read people?” she accused. 

“That’s enough,” Parker and Eliot demanded in unison. 

Savannah’s shoulders fell. “Fine,” she conceded quietly. She slapped down what was left of the notes she was sorting. “So we’re having a party. We have a plan. Great. So, I’m gonna call it quits for the night.” And she was out the door.


	11. Answers Lacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Savannah touch on what might be the problem between them.

Eliot stood there, after Savannah stormed out, in Parker’s suite surrounded by bridal magazines feeling defeated. It seemed to be a permanent state for him lately. He looked up to find Parker and Hardison staring at him with similar looks of amused pity. He shook his head. “I remember asking myself all the time why Nate dragged his feet so much with Sophie. And this is why. I get it now.”

Hardison sat down on the arm of the couch. Parker scooted closer to him. “But look at them now. They’re married. Parker dragged her feet too. And now we’re engaged.”

Eliot waved him off. “Yeah, that might be the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Parker asked. 

“Ever since you two got engaged, it’s like she can’t stand me.”

“But you two have spent every spare minute sucking each other’s lips off,” Hardison argued.

“She does get tense every time it comes to them being a couple,” Parker pointed out. 

“Exactly,” Eliot huffed. “She can’t keep her hands off me, but she won’t talk to me.”

“Wasn’t long ago that was ideal for you,” Hardison quipped.

Eliot’s lips puckered in agitation, and his eyebrows cocked like the hammer on a gun. Parker looked at Hardison, eyebrow raised in admonishment. “I will let him hit you.” Eliot clenched and unclenched his fist threateningly. “Do you want me to talk to her?” Parker asked. 

“No,” he said immediately. “Yes.” He changed his mind. He ran his hand through his hair. “No. If this is ever going to go anywhere, I can’t send you after her every time she won’t talk to me.”

“That’s a good point,” Hardison agreed.

Eliot raked his hand through his hair again and headed towards to door. “I’m gonna go talk at her while she stonewalls me.”

He chose to ignore Hardison’s mocking “Sound plan” as the door clicked shut behind him.

He jogged to Savannah’s suite and caught her just as she was closing the door. He threw his hand into the gap and pulled. She let go, but she looked disenchanted. “Eliot, I don’t want to do this. Not now.”

“Savannah, come on.”

“I told you--”

“Listen! Maybe you don’t want to talk about us, and I’m done asking. But we are working together, and you and I need to know where the other’s head is at.”

“Eliot, that’s just an excuse. I can’t talk about where I am with the job without talking about where I am with you. And you know that.” She looked like he was torturing her. 

He took her hands. “Savannah, why can’t you talk to me?”

She slumped against the wall but pulled him with her. “Right now, because I am tired. I waited tables, and then I dealt with Yavetz, and then we were in a hospital and then we had to deal with more work so I can stop waiting tables in Italy.”

“I know this isn’t about waiting tables, hon--”

“Do you trust me?” He didn’t have an answer. She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Eliot, do you trust me?”

“I don’t know,” he blurted out.

She swallowed, and blinked rapidly, like she was shooing away tears. “What...what do you mean?”

He put it all on the table. Maybe if he was completely open, she would open up. “When you don’t talk to me, and you don’t tell me what’s going on in your head, and you shut me out, it’s hard to say I trust you, honey.”

She nodded. “Okay, I deserve that.” She looked around like she was searching the corridor for an answer. 

He dipped his hand underneath her chin. “There’s an easy solution. Just talk to me.” Her face puckered in conflict. “Or at least tell me why you won’t.”

She rested her cheek on his wrist. “Because right now, I don’t even know how to tell you what’s wrong. Because I don’t really know what’s wrong. And I have to work it out with me first before I work it out with you.”

It was an answer. But it wasn’t. It was more than he had before, though. He was going to take it. He nodded. “Okay. I can live with that.” 

Her face flushed with relief. “Good. That’s good ” She pulled close to him, everything but their faces touching. “You know how important you are to me? That no matter what, you’ll always have a piece of my heart.”

Like an instinct, he pushed her hair behind her ears and held her face. “What are you saying? No matter what? Is there something going on?”

She took his wrists and shook her head but kept his hands on her face. “I told you I don’t know.” She bounced on her toes insistently. “But you know. Tell me you know how much you mean to me.”

“Yeah, I know.” It felt like a lie. While anyone who looked at them would know Eliot meant a great deal to Savannah, and vice versa, but with her feelings being so up in the air, it seemed, it was hard for Eliot to know where he truly stood. 

She pressed forward, and he got the hint, He leaned down and kissed her. As soon as his lips touched hers she clamped an arm around his shoulder, and the other other hand slid possessively into his hair. Another squeeze, and he knew what to do. She jumped, and he caught her thighs as her knees clamped onto his hips. Tongues, teeth, lips, all attacking each other like there was pride at stake. 

It seemed like an hour before they stopped to catch their breath and they hadn’t even made it inside. “Should we...take this...to the bedroom...or the couch?” he panted.

Her legs relaxed, and he let her slide to her feet. “Actually,” She was still catching her breath. “I think...maybe...I should...sleep alone tonight.”

He pulled his hands from her like she had tazed him. He may have preferred that, in fact. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

She hunched defensively. “I just...I have some things I need to work out, and it may not help to have you laying right next to me.”

The tighteness in his crotch was draining him. “Okay. Great. Fine. Sounds good.”

He began to step away and she caught his face in her hands. “Eliot, please don’t...don’t be...”

The way her bottom lip tucked underneath the top one and her eyebrows framed those glassy coffee-colored eyes; she didn’t use puppy dog eyes, but boy, when she did. He sighed, closing his eyes as they rolled in exasperation. Then he kissed her, hard, maybe hard enough to sustain him for another blue night. Maybe hard enough for her too. Her breath left her, and her hands left his face as they clenched into fists. “Goodnight, Savannah,” he said quietly and stepped away. 

He went back to his suite and distracted himself planning the menu for the party. He’d run it by the team later. When he damn near threw the menu board across the room out of what he was sure was misplaced frustration, he decided it was time for bed. He looked up to realize it had been over four hours. As he got up, there was a knock at his door, and he knew. He willed the smirk off his face as he opened the door and let Savannah in. He closed the door behind her, and she stood there staring at him. She opened her mouth to say something. He smiled and shook his head. No more explanations. She followed him to the bedroom, and he brought her under the covers. They squeezed in tightly to each other. He knew that night was just a moment meant to enjoy, and they did, just silently feeling the clutch of the other.


End file.
